Reckless
by Iron Zombie
Summary: Hey, my name's Scarlett. People usually call me Scar. You should probably know that I'm in a shit-load of trouble. Yay for me. Okay, so maybe stealing a huge hammer (which no one besides Thor, the god of thunder, should be able to lift) wasn't the smartest thing to do on my part, but hey, you only live once, right?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers**

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My name is Volkova. Scarlett Volkova. I know the James Bond thing is a bit cheesy but I've always wanted to do that. Anyway, back to the point...

I've had a pretty tough life. I was born in a small town in Russia. Borovsk, I think it was called. Heard of it? I didn't think so.

My mother abandoned me and my dad when I was two. That heartless bitch. I don't remember her much. I get the feeling that she wasn't a very good person, apart from the fact that she ruined my childhood, or at least three years of it.

This is when it really got bad. There we were, my father and I, watching television together. Little did I know, this time would be our last. Our door burst open and two people ran straight for my father. They pulled him away from me, yelling something at him, demanding. Me? Being the curious and foolish child I was, I just stood there, observing the spectacle. I caught my father mouthing something to me. I realized that he was trying to tell me to escape. The first place I went was the bookshelf in my dad's room. I shoved documents off the shelves, creating a flurry of papers as I dug through furiously with my tiny hands, searching for the box. This box was just an ordinary shoe box which held a not so ordinary weapon. It's this silver dagger with a small sapphire embedded in the handle. Funnily enough, it's the exact same colour as my eyes.

Looking at me, you wouldn't believe half the stuff I'm going to tell you. I'm a scrawny kid, but don't let that fool you; I could bash you to pulp in three seconds flat if I felt like it. I have uneven sandy blonde hair. I cut it myself. Hey, don't look at me like that! I wouldn't have if I could help it. Not everyone can afford a haircut, you know. There's only one think that I actually like about my appearance, and that's my eyes. They're rimmed by black lashes so they look like they take up half of my face when I'm hungry or desperate. Not that you get much time to preen when you're on the run practically your whole life, but still.

I was a smart kid, mature too. No other five year old could do half the stuff I could. My dad had taught me how to hack into accounts without a trace and to forge documents that not even the top government agent could recognise. That's how I survived most of these years. I took money from people's bank accounts to get by until I was strong enough to physically steal stuff. Plus, the whole hacking thing got a bit boring. Living on the streets most of my life, a break-in was the only form of entertainment.

Life was hard for me so, eventually, I gave in and enrolled myself into the foster system. They cleaned me up pretty well and I was soon adopted. I had, I think, eleven different foster parents by the time I was fifteen. I drove the first family away because I slashed their car tyres, the second because I flooded their bathroom, the third because I booby trapped practically every room in the whole house… you get the picture. I was arrested for arson in my eleventh foster home. I guess parents don't exactly appreciate their homes going down in ashes.

Juvie wasn't the most pleasant place to be in, but I liked it far better than spending 'precious' time with snobby, idiotic foster brothers and sisters. But that shit-hole quickly got on my nerves. Naturally, I escaped, risking adding more years to my sentence. It wouldn't have been too hard, fleeing from a juvenile detention centre, if it wasn't for the dogs. To this day, I despise those dirty, slobbering creatures, especially since my only encounter with the filthy animal was when great slobbering Rottweilers were nipping at my heels, and shaking the chain-link barbed wire fence that I was desperately trying to climb up without losing a limb. Security cameras I can handle. Swiss reserve bank eight tier combination locks? Piece of cake! But how am I supposed to sing Bone-Cruncher the dog a lullaby? Face it; dogs just aren't the best of friends.

After running away, I just did everything I could to survive. I laid low for a while, just living my life as Sarah Hampson. Not the most original name, but it was so ordinary that you wouldn't be able to trace it to me.

I started living life on the edge again. I began to steal priceless relics, paintings and fossils and other crap that I could sell on the black market. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a kleptomaniac. But the thrill of danger, the risk of being caught… who wouldn't love that?

This is when I had the amazing idea of breaking into Stark Tower. I had the idea when I was watching the news on one of the televisions in the window of an electronics store. They were talking about the re-opening of the tower since the attack and showed footage of some of the battle. It was actually pretty cool seeing the Avengers in action, even if it was just on video. Pretty bad quality video, might I add. Back to the tower. So I went for this risk and got what I wanted. Thor's hammer. It was weird. It shouldn't have been this easy. It shouldn't have been possible. Mythology states that only Thor can lift the hammer, yet I could do the same.

This got me buried in deep smelly shit. Not literally.

Now a group of hot-shot superheroes are after me and there is no way out.

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**A/N**

**Hey guys, this story has been in my mind for a while now, so I'd like to thank Starling Strider for convincing me to upload it. And I'd also like to thank madscientistavenger for designing the cover. :)**

**Thanks guys!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers**

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I sprinted at top-speed toward the barbed wire fence that surrounded the facility. Alarms blared and yet I could still hear shouts and dogs growling over the noise.

The fence was nearing but so were the canines that were chasing after me. When I was about four feet from the fence, I leapt. I flailed my arms to try and get as far as possible. My body collided with the mesh fence, my fingers interlocking with the wires. I instantly started climbing at an incredible speed. Those mutts I mentioned earlier were now nipping at my heels. The constantly leapt, trying to bring me down, but I was too high. I reached the top of the fence within seconds. I carefully balanced myself in a crouch position on the top of the fence. I turned my head slightly to see the guards were nearing, guns ready. I took a deep breath before diving, pushing off hard with both hands and feet. I soared through the air. It felt as if for a moment, everything stood still. I hit the ground with a thud but I kept running. It was only my massive adrenalin rush that kept me going.

I kept running, turning my head every now and then. After five minutes of full on sprinting, I could no longer see anyone following me. Either they gave up or are sending a cop car after me. Either way, I was safe for the time being. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath.

I was standing on a massive road surrounded by large trees, a forest. I could see the city in the distance. I turned to stare in the direction I was coming from. I couldn't see the facility any longer, but I could see rays of light cast onto the road. I saw a flash of red and blue only for a moment before they switched of. I could see the car approaching in my direction silently.

Shit, shit, shit, this can't be happening! Thoughts rushed through my head. I couldn't go back, I'd be practically giving myself in. I couldn't go forward, they'd catch up to me. Where would I go?! I turned to face the forest. It was my only choice. I dove into the shrubbery head first. I hid underneath a few layers of bushes. I could only just see through a hole in the bush. I watched as the cop car sped past me. I was so lucky that they hadn't seen me before.

I sighed in relief. I turned and waded deeper into the forest. It was the safest place for me right now. Not that a forest can be safe for a teenage girl on her own in the middle of the night.

I found a large clearing that stretched for half a mile. I began to walk under the dim moonlight that cast a vague shadow as I walked. The air was crisp and cool, just how I liked it. I don't mind the cold. In fact, I crave it. Just as any other person, I can feel it, but it doesn't bother me. I don't know how or why, but I can go through winters without a single jacket. I can hold a snow ball without my whole body going numb.

I traipsed through the field, my thoughts wandering. My mind flew to the moment when my life just fell apart.

English. I didn't understand the language, nor did I actually care for it much, yet I was watching a kid's show on television in that very language. Russian was the only language familiar to me. I stared lazily at the screen as the teletubbies danced around. God, I'm four and I find this show ridiculous. I felt the couch sink as my dad sat down next to me. I turned to look at him. He smiled at me, his eyes full of happiness. Our door suddenly burst open. Two people, a woman with long curly, bright red hair, and a man with sandy brown hair hurried straight for my father. The woman got him in a headlock before my dad could react. I watched intently, not realising how dangerous this was. I was a foolish child. I caught my dad's mouth moving. He signalled to me that I needed to leave, escape into the darkness. I dashed to my father's bedroom. I knew what to do. He always told me that when I was in trouble, I must always come to his room and take the weapon. A weapon hidden in an ordinary shoe box. I dug furiously through the drawers, creating a cloud of papers and other documents. I finally found what I was looking for. It was a small dagger that could comfortably fit anywhere on my body. I pulled on a pair of boots and slid the dagger in. The dagger looked kind of old, but it was special. There's a sapphire embedded in the handle that makes the knife give off a magical vibe. I heard soft footsteps. Someone was coming upstairs, and I was willing to bet that it wasn't my father. I quickly made my way to the window. I lifted it open as far as I could before carefully climbing out. I dropped on the soft grassy floor of my backyard, landing with a soft thud. I instantly took off as fast as my little legs could run.

I shut my eyes tightly, willing to forget this terrible memory. I hadn't since seen or heard from my dad, so I just assumed that he was killed or taken by those assassins. Since then, I haven't been able to sleep a wink without revisiting that night. Night terrors plague my dreams, including day dreams. Nothing has been the same since that night. Nothing has been right. And maybe I wouldn't have been so messed up if it wasn't for those two assassins. I swear to god, I will find them and make them wish they never even thought about doing what they did. I will make them pay, even if it's the last thing I do.

I inhaled a deep breath, relishing the cool air. I kept on walking. I didn't know where I was going, nor did I really care. I just wanted to start over, protect myself. For all I knew, those assassins were after me now. I can't live life on the edge any longer. I can't chase after the thrill of a challenge. I'm settling to live a normal, boring life. Well, at least for now.

I stopped suddenly. I finally let go of my thoughts and felt the heat settling in from the thick, orange prison jumpsuit. I took out the dagger from my boot. I was extremely lucky no one ever found this dagger in juvie. It's weird, you know. It turns invisible. I don't know how it works, but I've learned not to look too far into things and to just trust that they work. I slid the dagger in between my teeth and proceeded to take my pants off. Once that was done, I used the dagger to cut the pants short. I couldn't stand this heat any longer. I put my pants (now shorts) back on and repeated the process with my shirt. Once that was done, I continued walking. The clearing, it was so serene. No wind or animals to break the silence of the place. All you could hear was the soft padding of my footsteps.

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Walking. It was the only thing I've been doing for, oh I don't know, the last 4 hours! It was still dark, though. I'm estimating that it's about three or four in the morning. I'm in the suburbia of the city but I'm still not sure where I am. It was all a haze when I was arrested. I've been in so many different homes its hard to keep track. I think I'm somewhere in New York. Most likely in Manhattan. I'm glad of that, too, since it's easy to disappear in a big city, especially if no one knows who you are.

I'm searching for some abandoned property, since I'm not exactly in the position to buy or rent a place, now am I?

I stumble upon this massive property. I study it. The grass has grown way to high, weeds grow from the sides of the only building, which is a tiny shed. There was trash scattered, and the place stunk. I pinched my nose to keep the stench reaching my nostrils. I wanted to puke. I waded through the grass, hoping there wasn't a snake watching, waiting to pounce on me. I marched to the rusty shed door. I pushed it open slowly. A loud creak sounded as the door moved. I tiptoed in as silently as I could. Once I was fully inside, I let out a sigh in relief. There was no one inside, just a few boxes , an old ripped and filthy mattress with springs sticking out, a stone-age television which probably doesn't work, and a tool kit. Looks like a storage shed to me. I sauntered over to the mattress which was oh so conveniently leaning up against a wall. I hauled it over to beside the only window. I let it drop with a loud thud. A large wave of dust rose from the floor. I coughed. If I wasn't running from the police, I'd be more concerned for my health.

I looked down at my clothes. They were filthy and reeked of the prison I was in. If I went out in public looking like this, people might get the wrong impression. Well, it'd be the right impression but I don't need anybody recognising the jumpsuit and reporting me to the police.

I collapsed onto the mattress. I was exhausted. Not only have I been walking all night, I've had to go to the trouble of sneaking through the city to avoid being seen. Life on the run sucks. Why couldn't I have been born into a family who don't run off on their children, or get killed before their children, but spend time together and live happily ever after. In my dreams! I dosed off for who knows how long, waking up with a start when I heard the loud engine of a motor bike rumble as it sped down the road.

I sat up abruptly. I needed to get a move on. My new identity won't create itself. I huffed in annoyance. I had to figure out how to get new clothes before going out to forge documents. This will take a while…

Suddenly, a constant thumping sound echoed through the shed. I peeked out through a crack in the shed wall and saw a little kid with bright red hair bouncing a red basketball as he walked along the footpath. He seemed about ten years old. I smiled. Problem solved.

I marched outside through the long grass and snatched the ball from the air.

"Hey!" the boy cried.

"Hello. My name's Sarah," I lied. "What's yours?"

"Kyle," the kid replied. "Gimme my ball!"

"Ah ah ah. Not until you do something for me."  
"What do you want?" he asked meekly.

"You need to go to the nearest clothes shop and get me a shirt and shorts in small size. Then you can have your ball back," I said with an innocent smile. The boy, who was obviously terrified, nodded.

"Where's the money?" he asked, holding his small hand out.

"You don't need any money. Just take the clothes," I explained.

"How?"

"Easy. Just tuck them underneath your shirt and run out."

"Okay…" he said before running off toward the store. I smiled wickedly. Mission accomplished.

I waited about half an hour before I saw the kid running back with a massive lump underneath his t-shirt. His face was flushed almost as bright as his hair. He took out the clothes and shoved them into my arms. I checked the sizes on the clothes and confirmed that he got the correct sizes.

"Gimme my ball!" he yelled. I handed it to him and gave him a fake smile. "Run along now," I said, waving him off. He tried to give me the iciest glare he could muster. He squinted his eyes and I chuckled at his attempt. He turned abruptly and ran off, clutching his ball to his chest. I laughed. Little kids can be so stupid.

I walked back into my makeshift home, cradling my clothes. The were pretty light compared to the hefty prison clothes I was wearing.

I quickly changed into the clothes, studying them as I went. The shirt was just a plain white colour. The shorts were plain black running shorts. I walked back out the shed with one objective in mind. To make a new name for myself. To make Scarlett Volkova disappear.

I walked in the direction the kid came running from for about ten minutes until I found a store. There was an ATM right beside it. I smiled. Now, it would be really stupid to break into an ATM in broad daylight, but I'm desperate. I need cash to start myself off.

I marched up to it casually. I turned my head in all directions. There was no one there. Excellent. I quickly disabled the security camera by cutting the wires. The bank was bound to figure out there was money missing anyway so I didn't mind destroying the camera. I fiddled with the machine for a bit and BAM! The ATM spat out thousands of dollars. I held out my hands and let the endless cash fall into them. I was washed over with a tingling feeling as I gained enormous wealth.

I stuffed as much money into my shorts as the pockets could hold. I was left with a massive wad of cash that valued at least five hundred dollars. I folded it and tucked it into my boot, leaving fifty dollars clutched in my palm. I walked into a small department store that was right beside this machine of destiny.

I strolled in, acting like a snobby rich person who wore cheap clothes. I like to confuse people like that. I browsed through the racks looking for suitable, comfortable clothes. My eyes landed on a plain, baby blue coloured tank top. I sorted through the numerous articles of the singlet, searching for my size. Once I spotted the little white tag which had the letter S on it, I snatched the singlet of the rack and slung it over my arm. I searched for more articles of clothing. I made my way to the section that held all bottoms. I looked for something suitable for running, preferably black. I needed to be prepared should the police track me down. A pair of black cargo pants caught my eyes. I sauntered over to the shelf on which they were sitting and yanked the first pair off the pile. I checked the tag. It was the perfect size. On the bottom shelf sat a matching pair of combat boots. I quickly checked the size of my prison boots before finding the corresponding size. I traipsed over to the fitting rooms with my hands occupied by the clothes. I nudged open the door with my shoulder and tossed the clothes on the chair before spinning around and turning the lock. First I slid off my shorts, making sure that none of the money would spill out. I placed them on the chair and slipped on the cargo pants. I changed into the boots and tank top straight after. I eyed myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good, if I must say so myself. There were many pockets in the pants which would be very convenient.

I quickly changed out of the clothes and slipped my other ones on, still careful of the money. Once I was changed, I walked out of the change room with the pile of clothes in my arms. I marched to the check out, grabbing some cool looking black leather fingerless gloves on the way, and let the clothes fall onto the bench. I slapped a wad of cash on the bench. The girl behind the desk eyed my appearance before proceeding to scan the clothes. The look she gave me, it was like she was disgusted. I stared at her long straight black hair. She had pale make-up on and had dark eyeliner and eye shadow. If I didn't know any better, which I don't, I'd say she was goth. But she was really pretty, in my opinion. Her hair was so neatly cut and it looked nice and soft. Envy started to bubble. If only I had a life half as nice as hers, I'd be the happiest girl in the world. I looked at her clothes. She wore a black blouse with the store's logo on it and a black skirt with dark netted stockings and black heels. I caught sight of her name tag. Her name was Miranda. Pretty name.

There was a sound in the background.

"Huh?" I asked, snapping back into reality.

"Ninety-six dollars," she repeated.

"Oh," I said, pointing to the wad of cash I had put on the desk earlier. Her eyes widened at the sight of so much money. I counted up one hundred dollars and separated it from the pile. I gathered the clothes into my arms, not bothering with a bag, before turning my back and walking out. "Keep the change," I called out over my shoulder.

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I sat on my makeshift bed, sharpening my dagger. I was in my new clothes, which were quite comfortable to my surprise. My thoughts drifted as I thoughtlessly slid a rock across the blade of my knife. My eyes landed on a backpack. I had bought it on my way back here, along with several bottles of water and canned foods. It was quite large, big enough to fit all the money and my supplies, but not too large to be a hassle to carry. It was black, to suit my appearance and not to attract attention. I had already packed everything I needed into it, should I need a quick getaway.

I slid my dagger back into my boot and chucked the rock aside. It made a clattering sound as it bounced. I watched it closely. I had nothing better to do. I was safe for now. I had everything I needed. There was nothing left to do.

Then an idea popped into my head. You know that tower everyone's talking about? Here in New York? Stark Tower, that's it.

I'm going to rob Stark Tower.

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**A/N**

**Thanks guys, for all the reviews, follows and favorites. It means a lot to know that you're all enjoying my story. :)**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N**

**Hey guys! It's been a while with this story, but the chapter is finally finished! Sorry, it's a bit shorter than the last chapter, but hopefully the rest will be longer. **

**Please check out two of my newer stories: 'Secrets, Lies and Everything Spies' (co-written with smarty-wanna-party) and 'Prank War: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Edition'. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

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I stood on the sidewalk, my backpack slung onto my shoulder, gazing up at the massive Stark Tower. My brain buzzed. What could I steal? Some one-of-a-kind Stark gadgets? An Iron Man suit perhaps? I smiled in satisfaction. This was going to be fun. I ran over my strategy again. Turn of power. Get into air vent. Find weapons/suit room. Enter. Take suit. Fly the outta there.

Okay, so that plan wasn't the greatest, but it could work…

Who am I kidding? This plan is too flawed. Oh well, YOLO, right?

I strolled to the building like I belonged. On my way in, I was met with a guard at the entrance.

"Identification please ma'am," he said. He was massive. Twice my size at least. Well, I'm small, but still. He was pretty big.

"Oh, um, I left my wallet at home," I replied, pretending to be flustered. I then made a quick step to the side to go around him.

He stepped aside to block my way in. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said, crossing his arms.

"But I need to see my mom! She works on level thirteen," I explained, letting off a sense if urgency. Hopefully he'd let me in. After all, I am a sweet young girl. Maybe my messy hair threw him off.

"Level thirteen is the cafeteria," he replied with a straight face. Damn.

"Yeah, my mom's a cafeteria worker," I replied

"Nice try, little girl," he said, still a straight expression on his face.

"I'm sixteen!" I cried.

"Go home, or I'm going to have to call the police," he said. He was obviously enjoying this, even though he held a stiff expression.

"But-"

"Ma'am," he said sternly. I shut my eyes and counted to three, which was when the tower was triggered to lose its power. The power in the tower suddenly switched off. The guard was distracted by the unexpected power-outage. I ducked inside, my backpack brushing against him.

"Hey!" he yelled, running after me, but he quickly lost me. I hid behind a massive potted plant and, in the dark, it would be difficult to find me. I zig-zagged through the panicked crowd in the building and made my way down an endless hall to the bathroom. I looked both ways before walking inside. I ducked inside a cubicle and slammed the door shut. I turned the lock and waited for the click. Pushing the toilet's lid down, I stood on it. I pulled the grate off the entrance into the air vents and tossed is aside. I hoisted myself up into it, using all the strength I could muster.

Once I was all the way in, I began my journey to find the location of the Iron Man suits. I regretted my strategy as soon as I reached a vertical vent.

"Scar, you idiot," I hissed. I had completely forgotten about the vertical air vents. Now how on earth am I going to get up to the level I want?!

I stood up as quietly as I could. All I had to do is use my arms to keep myself from falling. I just had to wiggle myself through to the top.

Once I reached the top of that vent, I had to find a way to get my entire body onto the horizontal vent. I turned my head down as much as my position would allow, which wasn't much at all. I gulped. I hadn't realised that I had gone up so high. I was at least twenty feet higher than I was before. I positioned my arms on either side and pushed my body up with all my might. I let out a loud sigh of relief. I crawled over to the nearest grate. Through the grate, I could see some people busting their butts to get the generator working. I smirked. When I decide to give their power back, that's when they'll get it back. No measly generator can work under my spell.

I kept crawling for another hour, up, diagonally, left and right. I made my way to the nearest grate to check out the room I was above. From what I could see, there were no Iron Man suits. My eyes landed on a shiny blue, white and red object. It was Captain America's shield I assumed. Seeing as I wasn't going to find the suit room anytime soon, I decided to drop down in this room. I screwed the grate off and shoved it aside. I poked my head down to check out the room. There was no one in there and the power was out still so I wouldn't have to worry about cameras. I lowered myself so that my body was hanging down all the way, only with my hands holding on. I was about five feet from the ground. I took a deep breath and then let go of my grip. I dropped with the most silent thud as I landed. It was so dark! I could only see shapes of things and a bit of colour.

I walked toward the shield with quick and light steps. I picked it up carefully, and stroked it. My fingers glided across the cold, smooth surface of the metal.

My sight landed on a hammer. The very same hammer that Thor uses! I put the shield down silently and made my way over to the hammer. I knew no one apart from Thor could lift the hammer, but it was one of those things that you just have to do when you get the chance. I wrapped my fingers around it delicately. I gave it a hard tug. What surprised me most was when it was lifted with ease, whacking me in the face. I dropped it, causing it to land with a loud thud. I rubbed my forehead where the hammer made contact with my face.

That was so weird! I shouldn't have been able to lift that thing. It must've been a fake, I reckon. Yet, why would the Avengers keep a fake of the hammer? It's not like anybody could lift it… except me.

The sound of footsteps and voices filled the eerie room. I knew I was screwed. I scurried back over the vent that I'd dropped from earlier, still clutching the hammer. I threw the hammer up inside, which landed with a loud thud, and created a massive dent in the metal and then I proceeded to haul my body up into the vents. The voices grew louder and that's when I began to panic. I shoved the hammer forward, and it glided smoothly through the vent and I followed it as quickly as I could.

I could hear distinct voices; I could actually hear what they were saying.

"Where's Thor's hammer…?" It was a woman's voice.

"I don't know. Look, there's a dent in the air vent. Someone must've taken it. I'll check it out." A man said that. And he was coming. I picked up the pace. My arms and legs moved so quickly even I couldn't believe it.

I felt the weight of the vent shift.

"Hey!" the same voice yelled. I crawled faster, pushing the hammer along. The person was nearing.

I was going to need some major luck to get out of this one.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers or its characters.**

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I laid on the makeshift bed in my shed, my eyes trained on the ceiling. I made sure I could still see the hammer, even if only out of the corner of my eye. I had accomplished a goal that probably a small portion of the world's population could, and I was proud of that fact. I grinned at the thought. But then my thoughts turned grim and my smile turned upside down.

I got lucky, real lucky. That guy, the one that was after me in the vents, he tried to chase me down as if I had stolen something really important, like the hammer wasn't a fake, a counterfeit, like I'd thought. But that's impossible! I lifted the hammer. A hammer only Thor, the freaking god of thunder, can lift.

This can't be true, it just can't be. But I must admit it is so cool that I can do that. But the question is, how? How is it possible? Do I have some weird power? Am I related to Thor? Is it actually just a fake? The questions flooded my mind and I completely forgot about what's really important. That guy- the one that was after me in the air vents at Stark Tower- where is he now? He could very well be on my tail, or trying to find me this very minute. I could be in danger and all I'm thinking about is the hammer itself? I really need to get my priorities straight…

The thought of being caught again makes me cringe, so I instinctively pulled out my dagger. As soon as my fingers touched the handle of the knife, a volt of electricity was sent up my arm, causing me to drop the thing.

"Ow!" I hissed, shaking my hand. That hurt, and my knife has never shocked me before. I didn't even touch the metallic blade! I touched the wooden handle!

I bent down to pick it up when something even weirder happened. My hand was about an inch from the knife when it sort of jumped. Like it would float for a bit and then clatter onto the ground again. I kept my hand where it was and it was only a matter of minutes before the knife would fly into my hand, even if it was only one inch. And it did.

Okay, so now I have a new theory: I have somehow transferred the power from Thor's hammer to my dagger, and life just got a thousand times cooler.

While I was busy marvelling at my new and improved dagger, I almost failed to notice the footsteps coming toward my shed, until they were right outside. The door crashed and I knew I had too get out. Now.

I scrambled over the only window (which was covered in cob webs) and launched my body out. I landed on my knees and I stood and broke up into a sprint straight away. My legs were moving faster than ever, and I could hear the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs underneath my feet with every step. I pumped my arms harder and harder trying to gain as much speed as I could. I was not going to get caught now.

I could hear pounding footsteps behind me, getting closer and closer by the second. I wasn't going to let myself get caught, not now.

I felt a dart hit my calf. It stung a little, but I kept going. I felt another one, and another and another. I was beginning to feel drowsy.

That was until my legs collapsed beneath me and the whole world faded to black

* * *

My eyes slowly but surely opened, but my vision was blurry while my eyes tried to adjust to the lighting. I tried to bring up a hand to rub my eye, but I could barely move it. My hand - correction: both arms and legs - was shackled, chained to whatever I was laying on. And that whatever was a hard metal table, like an operating table in a hospital, or worse, a table in a laboratory. My eyes travelled, taking in my surroundings. Yep, I was in a lab, and this was bad. Very, very bad.

I pulled harder, foolishly hoping that that would somehow release the chains.

My arms dropped with a soft thud, I gave up on trying to pull out of this. Well, my life was just peachy.

"And she finally wakes!" a voice said loudly from the other side of the room, but I couldn't see him because I couldn't freaking turn. The loud volume of his voice cause a sharp pain to shoot through my head.

I hear footsteps coming closer to my table, and by the sound of it, there was more that just one person approaching.

I could feel my body tense, but I don't know why. The footsteps stopped and I glanced up to my right. There were two guys standing there; one had dark blonde hair and he was pretty muscly, and the other was Tony Stark. Of course it was.

I saw a guy across the room behind them. He was working on something. More like two things. Thor's hammer was right beside him and so was my dagger… in a containment case. Great. They stole my prize and seized my weapon.

"So, would you like to tell me how you broke into my tower?"

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**A/N**

**Hey guys, a short one from me but I promise the following ones will be longer. Was this one too rushed? I'll try to make the lab scene longer in the next couple of chapters.**

**Thanks guys for all your support with all my fics so far! :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N**

**Sup guys! It's really been a while with this story, but I'll try to finish it this summer vacation. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.**

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"Not especially," I replied, sighing loudly.

"You will tell me how you corrupt my security systems, the government will get involved. Trust me, you don't want that," Stark said, raising his voice.

"Beats being here with you," I said, moving my head to look around. "This lab you got here; it reeks. Seriously, what do you keep in here? Dead cats?" I said with a laugh. In actual fact, this place stunk of disinfectant. It was too sterile for my liking.

"If you don't cooperate I will-"

"You'll what? Kill me?" I retorted. I could see him fuming. "You know, for a superhero, you sure got this whole 'interrogation' thing going on."

"Stark, let me handle this," the blond guy said. He stepped closed to my bed - err table - and lowered his face so it was only inches from mine.

"How did you get into the tower?" he asked, his voice so calm and soft it was scary. I gulped. I couldn't move from my spot, no matter how much I wanted to. This guy, I don't know what he did, but he made me scared, shitless. I mustered all the courage I had within to retort with,

"Well, it was quite easy, you see. There are these big doors at the front of the buildings. Surely you've seen them."

Stark looked pissed and I could tell that other guy was using his patience. He did well in hiding it, I just did better in seeing it.

"How did you enter the weapon's vault?" he reworded. What kind of witty retort could I reply with this time?

"Boy, you are stupid," I muttered. "There's only one alternate entrance from the doors; that's the air vents. Which, might I add, one member of your little team followed me through afterwards."

"And I thought superheroes were meant to be smart…" I added a moment later. I chuckled when I saw an insulted look cross Stark's face, but it was only for a moment before it returned to the signature smirk that I knew from the magazines, newspapers, internet, even billboards. You know, if I wasn't tied up to a table in his lab and interrogated, I might've actually been excited to be meeting him. But now, I'm far from excited.

"So… are you guys going to keep me here much longer? I need to go to the bathroom," I lied smoothly.

"We'll have to run some tests first. On you and your little knife," Stark said.

"Like hell you are!" I tried to wriggle out of the constraints, but again, I couldn't.

"Please, I really need to go to the bathroom. You can even come with me," I bargained.

"Nope," Stark said, popping the 'p'.

Well, two can play this game. I know what I did was gross, but I did what I had to do. I let a little bit of pee out, enough to gross out Stark.

"Did you just….?" he asked, not wanting to say the word.

"I told you, I have to go to the bathroom," I said casually.

"Barton, take her to the bathroom!" Stark ordered, obviously grossed out by the little puddle that was on his table once I was off it.

I grinned and followed Barton to the bathroom. It felt good not to be bound to the that table. And come to think of it, I do need to relieve my bowels.

I can't believe I just said that. I sound like such a nerd.

Barton stopped abruptly at some door. He opened it and shoved me inside.

"Barton, I am shocked! That's no way to treat a guest!" I exclaimed. He growled and slammed the door. I grinned. I loved to piss people off.

I took the time to look around the room. The walls were stone, and there were no air vents that I could see, or a window for that matter. My only escape would be through the toilet, but I wouldn't dare try. I wouldn't fit anyway.

When I finished my business, I cleaned myself up a bit. Washed my face and did what I could with my teeth. I left the room and found Barton bored as heck.

He grabbed my arm tightly and led me back to the lab.

I really got a good look at it this time. There were so many funny looking metal things that I just couldn't resist. I swatted off the nearest thing, and it flew across the room. I walked past table by table, knocking stuff off, hitting them, and even picking up and throwing them.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Stark screamed, rushing over to pick up the pieces.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm trashing your lab," I replied casually, as if it were a completely normal thing to do.

"Barton! Do something! Anything!" Stark yelled, following me and picking up each little thing I knocked over.

But no one came to stop me. I looked behind me and saw Barton and scientist dude standing there with amused expressions on there faces. Talk about encouragement!

I saw a red and gold metal thing that looked like an arm. It must've been a part of his suit. I picked it up, pretended to examine it closely and then tossed it up and hit it with my hand, like a tennis serve. It sailed through the air and hit that box that held my knife. I was hoping it would shatter, but the arm just bounced off. Damn.

Finally I felt someone grab my hands and hold them tightly behind me. Of course it was that Barton guy.


End file.
